


Broken Mind, Mended Heart

by justanothermaniac



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Domestic Violence, M/M, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violent Thoughts, also happy birthday to me, this is emotional because i am emotional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25533412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac
Summary: They are doing this to themselves.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	Broken Mind, Mended Heart

**Author's Note:**

> my birthday was on july 25th (this bitch is 24 now aayyyeee) and i really wanted to post another - sort of? - twinleska birthday fic but this year was really busy with family and friends and stuff so it's a little late...sorryyyy i hope this makes up for it tho lmao
> 
> lemme know what you think, my lovelies!
> 
> ~ jam 💙

His touch feels like acid on his skin, his lips are rough and unpleasant as they move against his own. The smell of motor oil, beer and sweat reminds him of his uncle, making the whole situation even worse. And yet, Jeremiah lets the stranger continue, although he's not sure whether he's really letting him, or simply frozen in shock from his despicable decision.

_It's not cheating._

Jeremiah has already forgotten his name. He's a nobody really, a sharp-tongued young man with pretty brown eyes and soft black hair, your average teenage crush. There is nothing special about him and thus, Jeremiah doesn't remember his name. He wonders if that's normal. He's spent the entire evening with this man. At the very least, he should remember his name.

They're in his car, a cheap, demolished little thing. It's cramped and it smells like weed. Jeremiah usually isn't bothered by that but it's too familiar in this foreign, straight up bizarre situation. It makes his heart sting and his stomach twist.

_It's not cheating._

The young man suddenly cups Jeremiah through his pants, making him gasp into their kiss from the surprise. The touch feels wrong, the movement is too lazy, the size of his hand feels off, not in perfect alignment with -

Jeremiah bucks into the hand to make his mind shut up, pulling the stranger closer by his collar. He's smiling into their kiss now and Jeremiah knows it shouldn't make him feel like bashing his head in with a crowbar.

_Stop. Be normal. It's not cheating. You have nobody to cheat on._

Jeremiah's phone is vibrating in his back pocket again. Another text. Another painful tug of Jeremiah's heartstrings. "You should turn that off", the stranger whispers as he pulls away, lowering his lips to Jeremiah's neck instead. He's still palming him. "Who the fuck keeps texting you?"

"It's my birthday", Jeremiah presses out through clenched teeth, a shaky sigh following right after as teeth graze over skin. It's not a lie. However, there is only one person that knows his number. 

"It is? Well then, birthday boy, I got a present for you", the stranger mumbles into his skin. Jeremiah can feel him grin against it. It's sickening. It's so close to what he knows but it's _not_.

_That's a good thing. Stop being so pathetic._

He feels a grip around his wrist and then, his fingers graze over an obvious bulge behind denim. "You should open it."

His phone vibrates once more. His skin is burning, burning away, ants are gnawing at his bones, his fingers itch for something, anything to grab and lift high above his head to smash, smash, _smash_ it down on the stranger's skull until there's nothing left but bloody chunks.

_Get ahold of yourself. It's not cheating. This is good for you. It's not cheating. Stop thinking about him. It's not cheating. It's not cheating. It's not cheating._

_It. Is. Not. Cheating_.

* * *

"Well, happy fucking birthday, you selfish little fuck."

Jeremiah is facing away from Jerome as he closes the door. He doesn't turn around. He's shaking and his fingers hurt from the cold. Walking home took him over an hour.

"You're a piece of shit, y'know that? I've been texting and calling the whole ass day! What, ya been jerking off to some fancy buildings, huh?"

Jeremiah lets his forehead drop forward to rest against the door. He closes his eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. He can still smell him, the stranger's scent burnt into his mind. Motor oil, beer and sweat. He takes a deep, shaky breath, hoping it might calm his stomach. 

"Hey, four-eyes, I'm talking to you!"

Boney fingers dig into his shoulder and forcefully spin him around. Jeremiah shrieks a little when his back slams against the door. Jerome's hands grasp his collar but Jeremiah refuses to open his eyes. _"Look at me!"_

Jerome yanks him forward before smashing him back into the wall again. Jeremiah's head connects with the door. He keeps his eyes closed but the tears are falling now, the pounding in the back of his head not helping.

He feels Jerome's breath against his neck, hot and rapid. "Why the fuck do you smell like that?", he hisses and Jeremiah thinks he has to throw up now but his stomach is empty and his throat too dry. He didn't even drink today. He wants a drink. Just one.

"Hello? ANYBODY HOME?", Jerome screams right into his ear, making him flinch hard. It adds to the throbbing of his head. "You smell disgusting. Went and got yourself fucked by some alcoholic shitbag, huh? Ya miss dear ol' unc that much?"

"You always bring people here", Jeremiah rasps, finally blinking his eyes open. Jerome's face is a picture of rage, teeth clenched, ivory green eyes screaming murder. "You fuck them in the same bed I sleep in. Why the hell does it matter if I -?"

"TODAY, you went and spread your legs for some one-inch-wonder on our fucking BIRTHDAY!"

"Don't pretend to care", Jeremiah says pathetically, not knowing what else to say. He feels guilty, he does, and he hates it, hates himself, hates Jerome for it. There is no reason for him to feel guilty, Jerome doesn't own him, Jeremiah owes him nothing, nothing, _nothing_. 

Jeremiah's head hurts so bad. He doesn't have the energy to lie to himself.

He cries out when Jerome grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks, exposing his bare neck. If he wanted to, he could rip Jeremiah's throat out with his teeth. He would, Jeremiah is absolutely certain that he would. 

"Listen here, you little cunt", Jerome hisses, "I'm the only one who gives a _single_ shit about you, the only one who _ever_ cared about you. You have no one and nothing else. So don't get fucking cocky with me, you arrogant, self-absorbed, ungrateful, useless _slut_."

The words shouldn't sting but oh, they do, they feel like a thousand needles piercing his heart. Jerome lets go of him and Jeremiah slides down along the wall, his legs no longer strong or steady enough to carry his weight. 

"Go take a shower", Jerome says before swiftly turning around. "If you stink up the bed I'll go find the asshat that railed ya, turn his dick into a butt plug and make ya wear it until our next fucking birthday."

The hurt in Jerome's voice is evident and Jeremiah hates that he can tell, he hates that it makes something hurt deep inside, he hates that he thinks that Jerome has every right to be angry. 

Jeremiah doesn't want to cry. He doesn't want to sob. He doesn't want Jerome to freeze in place because Jeremiah whimpered his name. 

"I didn't do it." Jeremiah doesn't want to say it. "I tried. I wanted to...to...want it."

He really tried. _It's not cheating_ , he kept telling himself. But it was. Every single inch of his body that he let the stranger touch is dirty and that's how he felt in that car, tainted and disgusting. He darted out of the car before he even pulled down the zipper of the man's pants, heart beating rapidly as he walked home. 

Jerome is eerily still. He hasn't turned around yet and Jeremiah isn't even sure if he wants him to. He feels so ashamed. Dirty. He pulls his knees up and hugs them to his chest, his cheeks burning and his lips prickling with the salty taste of tears. "I couldn't. I couldn't. It felt...it wasn't..."

 _You. It wasn't you_. 

He's pathetic. A broken mind in a tainted body. He doesn't have enough strength left to loathe himself for it. All that's left is regret. Deep, raw, poisenous regret he shouldn't have to feel. 

A hand finds his hair, gentle fingers combing through the silky strands. Jeremiah jumps a little and lifts his head, looking up at Jerome through his smeared glasses. 

Jerome's expression is one Jeremiah doesn't see often. But he knows that he's the only one who _ever_ gets to see it.

Jerome pulls his hand back to hold it out to him instead. "Shower time. C'mon."

* * *

It feels like bliss. Jeremiah's mouth falls open as he moans, his arms tightening around Jerome's neck, their slick bodies perfectly in sync, the warm water raining down on them making every touch so much more intense.

Jerome is pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck. He's not biting for once, just kissing, feeling, tasting as he rocks in and out of Jeremiah, making him arch his back, bringing them even closer to each other. "Miah."

Jerome's voice is warm, yet breathless. He sounds as in love as Jeremiah feels. Jeremiah moves his hands to Jerome's cheeks, lifts Jerome's head so he can kiss him, deep and desperate and perfect. He's shaking more the closer he gets, his legs that are wrapped around Jerome's hips trembling.

Jerome breaks the kiss with a gasp, pressing their foreheads together, nails digging into Jeremiah's thighs. He's close, Jeremiah knows, he knows because he is close too.

"Happy birthday", Jerome whispers and Jeremiah huffs out a laugh despite himself, his heart throbbing in a painful embrace of love and sorrow.

"Happy birthday", he replies, fingers tightening in Jerome's hair, his cock now repeatedly hitting Jeremiah's spot and it's so, so good - 

"I love you", Jerome whispers and that's all it takes. Jeremiah buries his face in Jerome's shoulder, legs tightening even more around him as he comes, choking on a gasp when he feels Jerome release inside of him barely a second after. 

This is how they belong. It hurts but this is what they were meant to be. 

"I love you, too", Jeremiah breathes against Jerome's skin, refusing to detangle himself from him. _Please not yet._

They are doing this to themselves. Jeremiah knows it, the painful truth behind the nature of their relationship buried somewhere deep within his mind. He knows Jerome knows it too.

What does it matter? This world has given them nothing for as long as they existed on it. Why not clutch onto the one and only comfort they've ever known or needed? 


End file.
